


Who Needs Pictures, With A Memory Like Mine?

by fingersnapstothat, Lasenby_Heathcote



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Café, Excessive use of flashbacks, M/M, Minor Character Death, references to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-08 08:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11078247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingersnapstothat/pseuds/fingersnapstothat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasenby_Heathcote/pseuds/Lasenby_Heathcote
Summary: What was that old movie quote? “Of all the hipster cafes in all the cities in all the fucking world, he had to come walk into mine.”OK I may have embellished a little there, the sentiment is the same. He looks the same, maybe a little thinner, but it’s him. It’s Stevie.Oh fuck.Bucky had his heart broken when Steve left a year ago, and their world comes crashing down under the weight of all their memories when Steve returns.





	Who Needs Pictures, With A Memory Like Mine?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cap Reverse Big Bang 2017
> 
> Inspired by the awesome art of borkyandstove
> 
> Beta read by the patient AgentCoop
> 
> Title from song "Who Needs Pictures" by Brad Paisley

Who Needs Pictures, With A Memory Like Mine?

  
  


This is a story about love, about hope, about hardship. A story about heartbreak, about fear, and about that tiny feeling you get when your eyes meet across a crowded room.  
This is a story about leaving home, finding home and returning home. A story about growing up, growing close and growing apart. A story about the easiest thing in the world, and the hardest choice to ever make.   
  
The bubble burst of excitement and fear when you touch lips the first time,   
The overwhelming thrill of pleasure of skin alighting skin when you can't be close enough ,   
The empty gasp for breath when you think you’ll never see them again,   
The mix of pain and joy when reunion makes hurt hearts mend.   
  
This is a story of all of this, but most of all this is a story about two boys from Brooklyn, and above all else, this is a story about love.     
  
  
_********_   
_Another New Year, another party. Bucky stood at the back, clearing cups away, mercifully working so he didn’t have to chat to anyone too long. His eyes scanned the note-wall, all the confessions and declarations and photographs that had begun to accumulate in the cafés latest attraction. Sighing, he pulled the polaroid from his wallet in his daily self-flogging ritual and stared at the picture of the man he wasn’t sure was even coming back. His throat choking with feeling, he tucked his wallet back in his pocket sans photograph and instead flicked the pen from his apron and scrawled a message at the bottom and pinning it to the wall, walking away before he changed his mind. That night, amid the cheer and resolutions, the new wall addition sat, lost amongst the colours and words, declaring it’s silent message into the night._   
Stevie, I still love you . 

  
********   
The bell above the door chimed, announcing a customer's arrival. Bucky looked up in habit from where he was stacking latte bowls. The college aged man entered, hand obscuring his face momentarily as he swiped his long blond fringe from his eyes. Bucky swallows the twinge in his stomach. He’s used to the frequent reminders he sees in the customers – the blond hair, an undercut, the hint of a tattoo, or anytime someone orders a green smoothie, hell even eggs –Bucky is so used to seeing and being reminded of Steve in so many of the people who walk through the cafe during his shifts, that his brain fails to register just what, or rather, who he is really seeing before him. Bucky turns back to the crockery before the movement of the man catches his eye again. He’s glancing around the walls of the cafe – adorned with pieces from local student artists, and notes and napkin art from ordinary patrons too – the act makes Bucky assume he’s not local and seeing the place for the first time. But then Sam gets up from one of the tables, crying out in glee, offering a hand and a hug to the stranger. How does he know Sam? Bucky wondered when Sam’s words catch up to him through the noise of the cafe and Bucky is hit with the feeling like he’s just done the Ice Bucket Challenge.

  
“Steve!”   
...   
_What was that old movie quote? “Of all the hipster cafes in all the cities in all the fucking world, he had to come walk into mine.”_   
_OK I may have embellished a little there, the sentiment is the same. He looks the same, maybe a little thinner, but it’s him. It’s Stevie._ _  
_ Oh fuck.

...

_The waiter had messed up their order. Bucky found himself staring at what was decidedly NOT a bacon and egg sandwich, but when he pointed it out, the waiter brushed him off with a dismissive “Just eat it, I’m busy.”. Bucky was stunned and trying to decide if it was worth the fuss taking it back to the counter, when a voice from the booth behind him that sounded like home piped up._

_“Hey, can I get the ham and cheese I ACTUALLY ordered? I’d rather not go to the hospital because you’re too fucking lazy to get it right.”_

_“If you can't eat bacon you can't eat ham either, so don’t lie to me about your fake allergies.”_

_“Not that it’s your fucking place to police customers, but I’m allergic to EGG, you imbecile!”_

_Bucky got up and turned with the plate in his hand, “Hey, you said you ordered a ham and…” and suddenly Bucky forgot what words even were. Golden hair, blue eyes and a look of fury and Bucky was done._

 

  
Sam finished embracing Steve while Bucky composed himself. “Maria told me she saw you in town, you back to sort out school?”

  
Steve swept his fringe back, smiling. “Yeah, just been to the admin office to get my timetable. I want to finish it here where I started it.”   
A pair of arms wrap around Steve from behind pinning his arms to his side as he is lifted off the floor. Steve splutters and laughs, and Clint drops him back on his feet.

  
“Rogers! My man!”

  
“B!” Clint calls to get Bucky’s attention, then signs a message, his fingers flicking above his head so to not be obscured. Bucky nods and replies with his fingers. Both Sam and Clint snort in response.

  
“Bucky just said there was no need to yell.”

  
Met with Steve’s quizzical look, Sam explains, “Clint lost his damn hearing aids for most of last year, and was so _fucking_ stubborn about not replacing them, and well Nat refused to not be able to yell at him, so she enrolled in a sign class.”   
Sam smacked Clint’s arms and signed near his ear. Clint pulled a small case from his pocket and shoved a small pink lump of plastic in his left ear. He spread his hands and tilted his head as if to say “ _are you happy now?”._

  
“And the other one.” Clint rolled his eyes and plugged the other aid into his right ear, pushing the case back into his pocket roughly.

  
“We picked up the odd thing, just keywords and phrases. Here, the main signs you need to learn are these –” Sam waggled his fingers near his ear, repeating what he’d just done to Clint   
“-that means ‘your ears’. And if that doesn't get his attention do this-“ Sam stood between the other two, blocking Clint’s view of his hands. He then stepped aside and told Steve to try it. Tentatively Steve signed out the simple gestures Sam had shown him.

  
“Hey!” Clint cried, indignantly and sat down in a huff.

  
Sam sniggered, “Told you it’d get his attention.”

  
“So, what did I just say?”

  
“You’re a prick.” Bucky interjected, a tray of cups in his hands.

  
“Buck!?” Steve spluttered, looking stunned as Bucky realised what the first words he’d just said to his ex-boyfriend were and nearly dropped the tray on the table. Two of the mugs spilled over only the tray and Bucky swore, pulling a cloth from his apron pocket and mopped up the wayward coffee while words poured from his lips.

  
“Shit, sorry, no – that's what you just signed to him, I don't mean – you’re not a prick. Its, uh, good to see you Steve. How’ve you been?”

  
The surprise on Steve's face softened into a smile. “Yeah, good. You?”

  
“Yeah, you know-” Bucky's turned at the sound of the door chime, a group of women with strollers making their way into the cafe, his foot catching a chair and causing it to screech on the floor.

  
“Still too gay to function.” Steve laughed awkwardly.

 

_Bucky twisted the lightbulb this way and that, balanced precariously on top of the desk in his dorm, cursing as it refused to connect and fumbling as he nearly drops it to the floor. Stevie, was curled up laughing on his bed._

_“Good grief! Let me get it you big gay baby.”_

_“Are you saying that I’m too gay to function as an adult? Because that would explain a lot.”_

_“Eh, you’re lucky you’re so pretty, you don’t have to function. Give it here.”_

_And Steve stood deftly onto the desk, flicking the bulb in place and the room immediately lit up._

 

  
“Umm, yeah. I gotta get back-” and Bucky abruptly turned and scampered back behind the counter, kicking himself mentally.

 _Well, that couldn’t have gone more awkwardly_.

  
The afternoon flow of customers was steady and Bucky didn't get a chance to talk to Steve or the other’s again. Wade came out from the back with a mega tray of nachos just as Bucky attempted to wave them goodbye, giving a smile that was meant to say _“I don't think you’re a prick, ok?”_ but judging by the look he got from the cook, he hadn’t succeeded.

  
“Was that your old beau I saw leave just now?”

  
“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, then did a double take. “Hang on – did you just use the word ‘beau’?”

  
Wade shrugged his shoulder, nabbing a sliver of jerky from the jar on the counter.   
“Would you rather used the word deflowerer? Fuckbuddy? Knob-nibbler? Love-of-one’s-short-and-pathetic-existence?”

  
“Stop! Please, just, let me die here quietly, will ya? Harsh.” Bucky thumped his head onto the counter, whimpering at the sharp smack to the forehead. Wade grinned in his twisted way and flounced back into the kitchen, sniggering.

  
“And what? He didn’t deflower...” Bucky lifted his head, trailing off suddenly as Sharon returned, looking at him quizzically. Bucky straightened and turned his attention to wiping down a spot on the counter with gusto, hoping his focus would distract from the mortifying blush no doubt covering his face.

 

 _“So you’re from Brooklyn?”_   
_“Damn straight I am, and just so you know, that’s the only thing straight about me.”_   
_“I’ll keep that in mind.”_   
  
********

 

The cafe was closed to the public for the first night Steve had ever known, but seeing as it was the owner Sharon’s engagement party, the private function took precedence and he was happy to be surrounded by all the people he’d missed when he went back to New York. As they set up the place for the party, Steve heard all the stories from the past year. Sam and Maria had finally stopped their _“Will they, wont they?”_ dance and admitted their feelings shortly after Steve had left, and were going so strong they were planning to move to MD together in a couple of months when Maria’s contract starts, and Sam was rambling about how happy and proud of her he was, and sharing with Steve all the different paralegal jobs he’d applied for in the area near her job. Clint, who’d dropped out of highschool to work to support his twin siblings, told Steve that they’d graduated highschool the summer before and as part of their deal with him, he was now going for his GED, with the support of Nat and everyone else.

When the couple of the hour arrived, they cried at the fuss put in by the group, but swore none of them would be hired to decorate the wedding if the best they could do was crepe paper and balloons. Steve laughed as they regaled tales about the lovely couple Steve felt the twinges of sadness that he’d missed so much of it. He and Sharon had become close after she hired him to repaint the cafe window when someone had put a rock through it, and she adjusted her menu to list allergens for each item when she learned how annoying it was for him to order anything. And now here she was, celebrating her engagement to Jennifer, the lawyer who’d help stop the building from being bought illegally by a shady conglomerate and losing the cafe altogether.

“And if it weren’t for this beautiful woman,” Sharon gushed, leaning over to kiss Jennifer mid sentence, “I would have lost my aunt Peggy’s legacy, and you all would be stuck buying tacos out of a street truck or something.”

“And I would be still working late nights with only a highly judgemental cat waiting for me at home.” Jennifer retorted, kissing the sapphire ring on Sharon’s finger that matched the emerald one on her own, her medical bracelet tattoo peeking out from her sleeve.  


_Steve absent mindedly rubbed at his shirt on the spot over his collar bone. His newest tattoo was at the itchy stage of healing and he was having trouble keeping himself from scratching._   
_"You alright? You're not getting hives or anything?"_   
_Steve shook his head and pulled back the neck of his shirt. "New tatt." He explained. "It's still healing."_   
_“You got any others?” Steve shimmies his sleeves up to his elbows, showing off a stylised wing emblem and a name Steve explained was his mom._   
_“You got any body art?”_   
_Bucky laughs. “Only freckles.”_   
_“Please tell me you didn't get your freckles tattooed.”_  
 _“What the fuck? No! They're all god given. But I do have a set on my thigh that form a star.”_

_Steve’s eyes flicked down automatically and the pause before his eyes came up made Bucky’s mouth go dry, and when Steve finally did he made Bucky’s jaw drop completely._

_“You gonna pony up and show me or what?”_  


Sharon bumped Steve’s shoulder and pushed out her hand, showing off her ring. Steve obliged, complimenting her and hugging her tight.

“You doing ok? Happy to be back?”

Steve shrugged, “Been a hard year, but it feels better to be back.”

Nat came up and joined their hug, taking a photo of the three of them smiling.

“You like our new wall? We went with memories that everyone could add to. We need something of you up there! Or you could draw something.”

“I’ll work on it.” Steve said, distracted by the appearance of a tray of food being offered, or more to the point, the man offering it. Bucky and Wade, as loyal employees and friends had insisted on catering the party themselves, and Steve hadn’t had the chance to talk to him. Nat followed his eyes as Bucky walked away.

“You should be able to catch up with him on campus.”

“Didn’t he graduate with you guys?”

Nat shook her head. “He had a hard year too.”

 

********

  
The party filled the dorm floor from one end to the next, people laughing, drinking and making general youthful mayhem. Bucky was pleased for the night off, having a few drinks from a flimsy plastic cup and chatting to the RA about classes, when he was interupted by a couple of women he recognised from his Business Econ class insisting he come with them. Assuming they needed someone to act a a buffer to the drunken advances of the resident frat bros, he relented, allowing himself to be dragged halfway down the hall. What he didn’t expect was to be shoved into a room, caught in the arms of another trapped individual, then the door promptly closed behind him. Bucky peered up at the man who’d caught him mid-fall. Looking just as drunk and bewildered as Bucky felt, was Steve.

_Of course it was._

  
The file closet was cramped, walls lined with file boxes and two old photocopiers taking up most of the floor space, leaving Bucky and Steve in the gap by the door.  Bucky leaned back into the shelves as discretely as possible, trying to form some breathing space between them. The dorm party raged out in the hallway, the noise covering the sound of Bucky’s blood pumping in his ears, but just barely.   
“So, uh...”   
They brushed against each other, and the physical touch is enough to make each other lean in.

  
“I’d forgotten how you feel...” Steve staggered a step, his balance compromised by the alcohol on his breath and the lack of space. The beers Bucky had used to distract himself earlier were fuelling his focus, which at the moment was squarely on Steve’s lips and the words that had just come from them.   


_“I really gotta go.” Steve mumbled, lips still pressed close to Bucky’s. He made no effort to extract himself from where they were tangled together, hidden in the far stacks of the library. Bucky’s hands were knotted up in the oversized hoodie Steve was wearing, his tongue occupied by Steve’s and their homework forgotten on the floor._

_“Got class,” Steve tried again, mouth and hands still going back to his boyfriend, oblivious to the world aorund them._

  
“Oh..” he managed to say before their mouths crashed together, a familiar and scripted feeling, and they moved to fit together as well as they always had before.   
Bucky gasped, opening his mouth into the kiss, and he felt Steve’s tongue against his and he feels like he can finally breathe - like he’s just taken his first breath in over a year, as though he’d been underwater since their last kiss at the train station, holding his breath tightly to survive against the crushing pressure and now he’s just surfaced and he can finally fill his lungs.   
  
Bucky’s hands clung to Steve’s shoulders and he felt Steve’s hands hold his face and they fall back onto a shelf, the force threatening to knock various file folders off, propped up only by the two men. They broke apart, the earnestness of the kiss taking them both by surprise. Steve grabbed the flies that were digging into Bucky’s  back, righting them on the shelf and looming ever so close to Bucky again but not meeting his eye.

  
“Umm..” Bucky started, unsure of what he was even going to say. _That just happened?_

  
“Uh..” Steve huffed, biting his lower lips as he scrambled to get his brain working.   
The door pushed open beside them, metal scraping across the floor as the noise of the party invaded the quiet closet. A very drunk looking senior with his arm around an equally drunk and giggly woman stared at them a moment and then the guy slurred, “You using this room?”   
“Nope, all yours.” Bucky had the words out before he realised he was speaking, and shot out of the cupboard and into the throng of partying students, only vaguely aware of Steve calling out behind him. Steve caught up and put his hand on Bucky’s arm and turned him around.   
“Can we talk about this?”   
The party raged on around them, a horrible echo of the day Stevie told him he was leaving.

 

“ _To another summer gone! To another school year about to begin! Drink! Before homework tells you not to!” Clinks of glasses sounded like tiny fireworks amid the cheers and chatter of the crowd. The tall blond leaned forward to his smiling and handsome boyfriend and said in his ear,_   
_“Bucky, can we talk?”_   
_The handsome couple ducked out into the night, dodging smokers in the doorway until they could be somewhere not overheard._   
_“What is it Stevie? C’mon, it’s not like you to miss the party.”_   
_“I have to tell you something Buck -_ _  
My mom – my mom is sick. She’s dying Bucky, I'm moving back up to Brooklyn to take care of her. I've deferred school for the year. I leave tomorrow.”_

Bucky steeled himself against the twisting in his gut, no, he was not going to cry in public.   
“My dorm.” He indicated where to go with a tilt of his head. Steve’s hand stayed on Bucky’s arm as the moved through the crowd, the touch  like electricity going up his skin after that kiss had ignited him. Bucky didn’t know what to feel, he hadn’t felt this alive, connected, warm in so long-he didn’t know if he wanted to stop all this feeling or not let it go ever again.   
He pulled Steve into his dorm room,  shoving a couple of freshman looking girls out of the doorframe, and in the room he turned around just as Steve stepping and found him so very close again. Bucky lifted his hand and placed it on Steve’s chest, scared of whatever Steve wanted to say, scared of everything, scared he might leave again – but with the familiar cord of muscle beneath his finger tips and the alcohol still running his brain,  Bucky was suddenly very aware that if whatever Steve was going to say was bad, then he wanted another kiss to remember him by first.

  
Bucky tightened his fingers in the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt and pulled them together. Steve moved in concert with him, mouth meeting, kissing as sweetly as they did earlier. The door to his dorm room was nudged by their movement and slammed shut, the sharp sound like a starter pistol going off and they broke apart for a second. Bucky could feel their breath panting together and his eyes had barely a chance to focus again when Steve crowded in and kissed him again.   
This kiss was hungrier, desperate, insistent, urgent – like a dying man gulping water. Bucky grabbed the back of Steve’s head, fingers carding roughly through the fuzz of his undercut, scratching and Steve leaned back his hand melting a little. Steve was giddy with the heat of the kiss but his skin burned, he wasn't close enough, and pulled at Bucky’s clothing.

  
They tore the clothes off each other and Steve backed to the bed and pulled Bucky down on top of him. Drunk and uncoordinated, Bucky landed harshly on his knee on the edge of the bed, but the pain was lost amidst the overpowering need and want he’s feeling. They drag themselves up the bed to the pillows and Steve instinctually fumbles at the drawers where his addled brain remembers Bucky would always keep the lube. His hand scrambles around for something familiar, distracted by Bucky sucking at his nipple, and only comes up with a handful of pens. Bucky looked up from Steve’s pec and said, voice hoarse,

  
“Oh, um, next drawer down.”   
Steve sat up and leaned over, opening the second drawer to reveal a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Depositing them on the bed, Steve turned his attention back to Bucky, grinding his hips upward, rubbing against Bucky’s throbbing hard-on.

  
“Oh god, Bucky, I want your dick in me, please..” Steve moans and Bucky can hardly think for the words in his ears, making him melt inside and burn deep in his groin. Bucky sat up and grabbed a handful of lube, leaving wet handprints on Steve's thigh as he fumbles to shift his legs apart and reach behind Steve's leaking dick.   
Bucky found Steve's hole and swipes a sticky finger over it, stroking back and forwards. Steve’s moans propel him and Bucky drunkenly starts fingering Steve open. He gets two fingers in before Steve reached down and pushed a finger of his own alongside Bucky’s.   
“Stop taking your time, want you in me,” Steve grunted in Bucky’s ear.  


_“Oh, oh, oh god, Bucky I love you... oh god, yes right there - ahhh!”_   
_“Only you would make your love confession when I've got my dick in your ass.”_   
_“Maybe I was saying it to your dick.”_   
_“Of course you were saying to my dick, my dick is awesome.”_   
_“Fine, I take it back, I don’t love your dick.”_   
_“Oh no punk, no take backs, you love me.”_  
 _“Yeah I fucking love you. Now are you gonna do something with that dick of yours? I aint finished here.”_  


Bucky fumbled to get the condom on, Steve’s teeth pulling on his ear lobe frying his brain an making the task difficult. Rolling it down over his dick, Bucky squeezed himself tight and pushed Steve’s knee up. Steve held himself open, his long artists fingers spreading wide his ass cheeks, inviting Bucky in and Bucky almost cried. He never thought he’d see Steve like this again, open, vulnerable, trusting - trusting _him_. Bucky kissed Steve deeply, eyes closed tight holding back tears as he blindly guided himself into Steve’s body. Steve grunted as Bucky’s dick breached his hole, pain and pleasure shooting through him, and he wanted it all at once while it was too much at the same time. Their rough preparation hadn’t stretched him enough, but he was drunk and insistant and didn’t care what it would feel like in the morning, just what it felt like now.

They panted and pushed together, Bucky sliding out and in again, deeper and further until eventually he bottomed out and Steve dug his heels into Bucky’s lucious ass and urged him on. They’re drunk and eager and it’s been far too long for either on them so it’s quick and messy and over too soon, Bucky coming, shaking and gasping Steve’s name, tears creeping from the corner of his eyes. Steve jerked himself to climax, sobbing into Bucky’s shoulder, _“I miss you.”_

 _  
_ ********

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

Bucky and Steve were sitting on a picnic bench in the quad, their Business Econ assignment handed in and nothing else for the afternoon. Bucky didn't have a shift at the cafe until the following morning, and was enjoying not having to rush off campus. They hadn’t talked since the floor party, or more precisely since Bucky left Steve still sleeping in his bed the morning after the floor party. He’d had an early shift at the cafe, and he stuck to that as his excuse, rather than admit he’d run away from something too big for him to deal with and Bucky was hoping like hell Steve wasn’t about to ask him what it meant because that was something he didn’t know the answer to. But Steve it seemed, was willing to avoid that for the time being too.

“Why did you end up repeating this year? All Nat would say was you missed a couple of exams, but wouldn’t say why. Told me to ask you.”

 

 _“Whatcha found?” Nat smacked her lips by his ear as she looked over his shoulder at the screen, the familiar white boxes forming a line down the page._   
_“Massage from Steve. Uh, his mom passed away. Funeral’s Tuesday afternoon.”_   
_“You’re not thinking of going.”_   
_“I don’t know.”_   
_“Your lab is on Monday.”_   
_“I know.”_   
_“Your History final is first thing Tuesday.”_   
_“I know.”_   
_“Your final for both Econ and Physics are on Wednesday.”_   
_“Nat-”_   
“ _And you haven’t spoken to him in months -hell the message was on his Facebook, not even to you directly-”_   
_“I KNOW.”_   
_“You’re not thinking of going.”_   
_“-”_ _  
“Bucky!”_

  
That was something Bucky knew the answer to, much as he didn’t want to reopen old woulds, but with Steve back it seemed inevitable. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, thinking back to that day.

 

  
_He threw his bags into the car, opened GPS on his phone, plugged in the destination and fired up the engine. It showed him a calculation of the distance, and he was sure as anything going to try and make the funeral. He’d turn around right after and make it back for ECON, sleep be damned. He barely registered leaving the city, and soon he was on the highway north, cars and scenery flying past, the radio picking up whatever station it came across. Bucky was too concerned with the distance to go and estimated time of arrival that he ignored the rattle from under the hood and pushed on. It was_ _the detour that worried him, it was set to add another 50 minutes to his journey and put him entering the city right during rush hour, delaying him further. He was less familiar with the roads the detour took, and slowed as much as he could afford to compensate. Then the unimaginable happened, Bucky’s car broke down. Just entering the edge of a town still too far from the highway, the rattle turned into a crunch and then ended with an almighty THUNK and lost all power, grinding to a halt outside a mom and pop hardware store._  
  
_The car went to the garage and Bucky with it, he told them he had a funeral to get to and what would it take to get his car fixed and get him there? He was told it wasn’t going to be a quick fix, in fact, it was going to be more than the car was worth to fix and would take at least a month if he wanted to do it. But as for getting him to the funeral, they knew a long haul driver who could get him to Port Authority that afternoon if he didn’t mind sharing the cab with a dog._  
_And that was how Bucky found himself hugging a toothless old Labrador named Howler, riding shotgun to a one eyed man named Nick all the way to New York City. He watched the time tick away along with the highway signs, the funeral beginning when he was only an hour out._  
_The truck had to take the same detour Bucky had, so lost some time getting back onto the main road, but it took him right into the city and he only had to find a cab from there and maybe, just maybe he’d still be able to find Steve after. But the city takes its own time getting you anywhere and if Bucky knew where the funeral home was he might have taken the subway instead, but as it was he arrived too late, the hall was cleared and the director couldn’t give out any information. So Bucky did the next best thing – he headed for Steves mom's house, surely he could find Steve there. But no answer and what felt like eternity sitting on the doorstep, he was shooed away by a neighbour and sat in an all night diner as the world outside turned to night._  
_It was in the diner that his phone got the notification from Steve's facebook page, that he’d just arrived at his cousin’s house upstate, and would be staying a while before settling his mothers things._ _  
It was then that Bucky cried, in a dimly lit diner in the middle of New York City, to know that he wasn’t even in the same city as the man he’d come to find. It was then he booked a bus ticket for the morning home, without even a stop to sort out his car. Bucky didn’t really remember much of the next day, the bus ride back or anything. He just knew he went right to his dorm and slept something like 12 hours straight, and missed his next two exams._

  
“One of my professors tried to wrangle extenuating circumstances,  but I knew Daniels in Econ wouldn’t, so I didn’t fight for it too hard. I was still going to have to come back anyway.” Bucky shrugged.

  
“You tried to get to the funeral,” Steve said quietly, “I’d turned off my phone. There were too many messages, I couldn’t field them and do the funeral –”

  
“It’s ok, Steve, I get it.”

  
“No! If I'd had it on, I would have seen you, I wish I’d –”

  
“ _Steve_. And if I'd told you I was coming up, and if you’d directly invited me, and if I'd kept in better touch... you think I haven’t wished it all.” Bucky sighed harshly, standing up and turning around, scrubbing his face with his hands.

  
“I wish... I wish I could’ve been there for you. I'm sorry I couldn’t make it. Of all the things I’m sorry about the last year, that’s the big one.”

  


********

Steve entered the cafe and looked to the counter bout couldn’t see past the group of students standing around staring at the menu board. He turned instead and heded to the wall at the back where dozens upon dozens of notes, photos and drawings were pinned up. Steve pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, and pulled a spare pin from the base board, and started scanning for a space to put it. His search was halted by a picture that caught his eye, half hidden by a handwritten bucket list pinned over top, and Steve tilted the paper list to the side, knocking the pin out and the photo fluttered to the ground. He bent to pick it up and turned it picture side up.

The polaroid was curled at the bottom corner with a crease down one side where it had been folded and flattened many times. But the surface was still shiny and Steve's face stared back at him from the square in the middle. He was standing outside this very cafe    , his hair short and shorn as he’d worn it two years prior, his favourite blue top that showed off all of his tattoos. He smothered a laugh at the smoothie cup held loosely in his hand, the memory of Bucky's voice clear as day in his brain teasing him for his choice of hipster drink. Steves fingers rolled out the curled edge as his eyes read the familiar flow of his ex-boyfriends pretty writing.

 

_Steve stuck his face next to Bucky's shoulder, leaning over from his own seat in the lecture theatre and scowled down at the paper on Bucky's desk._

_“God, even your handwriting is pretty as the rest of you is. How is that possible?”_

_Bucky shifted in his seat. “ Oh, shut up.” he muttered, a slight flush in his cheeks_.

 

Steve loved how Bucky both blushed and preened every time he called him pretty.

 

 _STEVIE @ CARTERS 2016_ the photo read. Bucky had just been sent a polaroid camera by his sister, _“for your hipster tendencies._ ” the note with it had declared which had made all their friends laugh.

“Hipster,” Bucky sighed, “the only hipster thing I do is Stevie.”

Which of course had made them all laugh even more.

 

 _“Oh my god, is that a polaroid camera? You’re a total hipster.”_   
_“Says the punk with the $14 green smoothie with pine nuts.”_   
_“Just take my picture, jerk.”_   
_“I will – when I – get it to – bloody – work-“_   
_“Give it here, I swear you are too gay to function.”_   
_“I'm pretty - I don’t have to function. Now fucking stand still.”_ _  
_ CLICK

 

Underneath the date was another note, the red ink was more faded but it’s message read loud and clear and Steve swallowed nervously. _How long ago had he written it?_ Steve wondered giddily, unsure if he was even breathing anymore. _Could it be?_

He dashed to the counter, pushing aside the dawdling freshmen and stared down at Sharon’s newest hire, ignoring the protests around him.

“Uh, is Bucky here?”

“Who?”

Steve huffed in annoyance. “Tall, brown hair, eyes so pretty it hurts, doesn’t work Wednesdays because of classes?”

“Oh, _James._ Yeah he swapped shifts with me, said he had to be at the library…”

Steve bolted from the cafe, memories cascading in his brain. There was only one thing Steve ever knew that ruffled Bucky's feathers more than being called _James_ , and that was being accused of not being New York enough. And by God, Bucky was hot when he was angry.

 

_You can't be a proper New Yorker.”_

_“Oh what is this shit now, Rogers.”_

_“You've got a car! Who the hell from New York has a car?!”_

_“Someone who had to drive several states AWAY from New York for college! Are you telling me you lugged all your art stuff on the train from Grand Central?”_

_“Actually yes. Like a NEW YORKER would.”_

_“Oh, fuck off Rogers. I was going to open your door like a gentleman, but for that you can get your own fucking doors tonight.”_

_“Are you saying we’re still going out?”_

_Bucky came right up to Steve, finger pointed in his face, “You can bet your tight bi ass we’re still going out. Now get in my car unless you’d rather catch a BUS to the drive-in theatre.”_

_Steve, movie junkie that he is, can't even remember what movie was playing that night. What he does remember, in amazing detail was how Bucky sat stiff and tense beside him still fuming, his smooth skin flushed bringing out the pale freckles across his nose, the little crease between his immaculate eyebrows and his short slicked hair, so perfectly styled when he first picked Steve up, now ever so slightly out of place it made Steve want to mess it up real bad and see if it set Bucky off again. The look on Bucky’s face when Steve leaned over and did just that during the film’s chase scene was so scandalised and he swore so fully that Steve planted a kiss on him right then and there. Neither of them saw the end of the movie after that, they were too busy with each other, mouths and hands demanding and fervent._

_If Bucky was pretty on a good day and hot when he was angry, Steve discovered that night he was devastating when rumpled and flushed after making out in the front of a car for half a movie._

 

The heavens opened as he sprinted through the campus quad and he was soaked by the time he made it up the library steps. He marched down the aisles, his wet sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, making seated students turn around and look. Steve went to all the spots he knew were their favourites two years ago, hoping they still might be now, but he saw no one but strangers. Making for the stairs, he was contemplating pulling his phone and calling, but if Bucky was still Bucky, his phone would be silenced and calling would be useless. Passing two empty conference rooms Steve stopped at the door of the third where inside a man stood in front of a board, writing down suggestions thrown out by the group at the table. Tall, brown hair and eyes so pretty it hurts, Steve watched through the window, wondering how he ever said goodbye.

  
  
_He stood at the train station, bag hung loosely in his hand, heart hung low in his chest._   
_“We’ll still have each other right?”_   
_“I can’t think about school or us or anything right now. All I can think about is her.”_ _  
Bucky nodded his head, lips pressed tightly together, willing back the tears. The loudspeaker overhead announced the boarding call and Bucky took a good look at the punk in front of him, willing every detail to memory, because he knew he would never forget him. They pulled each other in, lips meeting as naturally as day follows night, their coordination in synch, as they pressed each other in a last bittersweet kiss. Abruptly Steve turned to go, pushing his thick black frames up his nose and striding towards the train, and seeing his strong back disappear into the crowd, Bucky watched his heart break into a million tiny pieces. _

 

Bucky looked up and frowned, not expecting to see Stevie staring through the conference door window at his Econ study group, he expected it even less when the bedraggled blond raised his hands and started signing through the glass. It took a second before Bucky registered what he was saying, when Steve pressed a coloured square to the glass and even from a distance Bucky knew the details of the polaroid and the message he’d left on it by heart. He smiled tearfully, oblivious to his study group’s questions and raised his hands and returned the message.

_I’m sorry._

_I’m so sorry._

_I still love you too._  


********

  
This is a story about love, about hope, about hardship. A story about heartbreak, about fear, and about that tiny feeling you get when your eyes meet across a crowded room.   
This is a story about leaving home, finding home and returning home. A story about growing up, growing close and growing apart. A story about the easiest thing in the world, and the hardest choice to ever make.   
  
The bubble burst of excitement and fear when you touch lips the first time,   
The overwhelming thrill of pleasure of skin alighting skin when you can't be close enough ,   
The empty gasp for breath when you think you’ll never see them again,   
The mix of pain and joy when reunion makes hurt hearts mend.   
  
This is a story of all of this, but most of all this is a story about two boys from Brooklyn, and above all else, this is a story about love.


End file.
